When someone answered, he introduced himself and mentioned my husband’s name.
Suddenly, his expression changed.
“I understand. Thank you. We’ll come.”
After hanging up, he turned toward me.
“Mrs. Mary, I think you need to come with me.”
An hour later, we were standing outside a small medical center.
An elderly woman greeted us at the entrance.
When she heard my husband’s name, her eyes filled with tears.
“So you’re his Mary…”
I didn’t understand.
“You knew my husband?”
The woman led us into her office and took a thick folder from a cabinet.
My photograph was on the first page.
It was a picture taken ten years earlier.
“Your husband first came here twelve years ago,” she said. “He was terribly worried.”
It turned out that after a serious illness, I had struggled to eat properly for a long time.
I remembered that period, but I had never realized how serious my condition had been.
